


Yakuza AU

by soucieux



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-17
Updated: 2008-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soucieux/pseuds/soucieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akanishi and Kamenashi are yakuza who work together, who live together, who trust each other. They have rows of dark suits in their respective closets (and skeletons behind those).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamenashi is a little messed up.

Kamenashi shares an apartment with Akanishi. The apartment is decently-sized and they live like university students with beer cans strewn over flat surfaces and empty pizza boxes piled beside the trashcan. But they are yakuza and bodyguards and occasional hitmen with dark rows of suits in their respective closets (pressed and dry-cleaned).

"Tadaima," Kamenashi calls, slips trainers off his feet. He's unassuming. Skinny and lithe with a long face and high-arching eyebrows.

"Okaeri," Akanishi replies from somewhere. Maybe the kitchen where he eats Chinese leftovers or the living room where he plays video games. He's probably just woken up. "Where did you go?"

"Shooting range. Ready for tonight?"

"You know," Akanishi calls, "I had a date." He pads out to meet Kamenashi in the front hallway. Akanishi is dark, and he's broad for a Japanese man, but his face is pretty and soft. He probably looks like his mom. "Had to cancel. Think she hates me?"

"There are others." Kamenashi shrugs. "Did you make lunch?"

"I just woke up."

\---

Kamenashi freaks out when he hears guns at the shooting range, but it's a little bit different on the field. It is do-or-die, no time for silly breathing exercises or—"Motherfuck, Akanishi," he spits, glares venom at the driver as he swerves. "You nearly took that eighteen-wheeler up the fucking ass. We're not in a _tank_." He grits his teeth and his heart pounds when he shoves his gun out the window, points it back and shoots at the car giving chase.

"If you would just kill the motherfucker then I wouldn't have to try so hard to get away," Akanishi hisses back. And there's collective wincing as the back window shatters when it's sprayed with bullets.

Kamenashi's fingers tremble as he shoves bullets into the gun's chamber. He nearly flies into Akanishi's lap when a bullet comes closer than too-close-for-comfort, hits the rear view mirror and Akanishi almost smacks into the median during his swerve.

Kamenashi turns in his seat, hears the blood pumping through his heart and maybe feels blood oozing down his forehead. He's afraid and shaking and adrenaline isn't helping. "Steady!" He calls, looks over at Akanishi before looking at the car trailing them. "Don't jerk," he says and the cold air bites his skin and whips his hair.

He lines up the target, feels the trigger and pulls.

\---

They dump everything, drive the vehicle to a chopshop at the docks and burn their suits at the pier. Kamenashi throws the gun into a dumpster. It's clean and unmarked.

"That went well," Akanishi lies, looks at Kamenashi. They wear street clothes, jeans and t-shirts and jackets and hats. Late night karaoke, they told a cop who stopped them. He had apologized, told them he had to be suspicious of anyone walking around at 2am down a Tokyo backstreet.

"The client is safe." Kamenashi flips his phone shut. "Got a text. It was only those two men and they came after us."

"Brilliant idea," Jin says, "Getting in the car alone and disguising that guy as a sous chef in the kitchens."

"Mm," Kamenashi doesn't really reply. He hasn't been able to shake that feeling of near-death.

They hail a cab.

\---

Kamenashi, according to others, takes everything too seriously and only cares about work. He's uptight—has a stick up his ass.

Kamenashi thinks that's stupid. He doesn't want to die. He'd do anything to stay alive except give up his loyalties, and even then—

"Kamenashi," Akanishi says, "We're home."

\---

Kamenashi showers first. He likes it hot and scalding to remind him that he's alive, that his skin is red and raw because his blood is still flowing. His mind is fuzzy when he leaves the shower, and he's pulling a towel from the rack when the door opens and the steam floods out and Akanishi stands in the mist.

"Are you okay?" Akanishi asks, begins to strip. "You were in here a while." Akanishi waits for an answer with his shirt off and his jeans half-unbuttoned. He also blocks the doorway.

Kamenashi blinks slowly, holds the towel in his hand and drips on the tile floor. "Yes," he says looks straight into Akanishi's eyes.

Akanishi steps forward, reaches out his hand and lets his fingers run down the line of Kamenashi's arm. "Yes?" He asks.

Kamenashi admits to himself that he's not okay, that he doesn't do particularly well in near-death experiences though a stoic face may say otherwise. He's very much an immature child, very much incapable of comprehending death or embracing it. He also admits that Akanishi is the only one who knows he's like that. "Please."

\---

He likes the feeling of Akanishi pressed between him and the wet tile of the shower, solid and alive and real. Breathing and gasping and naked—exposed. Kamenashi likes the noises that Akanishi makes, the strangled shriek when his fingers run along Akanishi's collarbone, the satisfied sigh when his hands run through Akanishi's hair.

They migrate to one of their rooms eventually—whomever's is closest. Kamenashi fucks Akanishi into the mattress and he hopes it hurts. He hopes it burns, because he wants Akanishi to feel like he's alive too.

Akanishi always pulls Kamenashi toward him when it’s over and they are hot and spent and still breathing heavy. His limbs might ache, and the red marks on his body might sting, but he never complains and always seems content.

Kamenashi allows himself to be babied, lets Akanishi rub those large hands over his muscles, lets Akanishi press his chin into his hair.

This makes Kamenashi feel alive, too. In a different, unassuming way.

"I'm afraid of dying," he confides in a rush, feels Akanishi shift beside him until they are at eye level.

"It's like sleeping. You won't even know it's hit you."

"Have you died?" Kamenashi asks, voice curling with sarcasm.

"Close enough," Akanishi says, and Kamenashi isn't a poet, but he finds himself suddenly wondering if it's possible to get shot in the chest and not have a scar, because one of Akanishi's hands drifts down toward his heart.


	2. Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamenashi needs what Akanishi wants.

They do it because Kamenashi needs it after rough jobs. He needs to feel alive, needs to get the feeling of impending death out of his veins. He needs an outlet because he's angry, because he's sad. Because his tensions run incredibly high and his adrenaline makes him shake and shiver.

But it has to be Akanishi, always Akanishi. Because he's the only one who understands, who doesn't ask questions and doesn't expect something more.

\---

They're watching for the wife of one of their seniors. Apparently she gets around, has a thing for young CEOs in Armani suits with big foreign cars. They sit outside a five-star hotel in their shitty car with heating that doesn't work and a radio that crackles.

"How long do you think it takes for a fuck?" Akanishi asks. He lights a cigarette and holds it between the index and middle fingers of his left hand.

"Maybe they're eating dinner," Kamenashi supplies.

"Maybe he's eating her." Akanishi takes a drag. "I could be doing something useful right now."

Kamenashi flips open his cell phone. It reads one fifty-six am. "Sleeping?"

"Sleeping is useful," Akanishi says, takes another drag before passing the cigarette to Kamenashi. "Or I could be getting head from the bartender at the club I meant to go to."

Kamenashi takes a drag, doesn't doubt it. "That doesn't pay the bills," he says. If Akanishi really wants a blowjob—

"We don't do this just because it pays the bills, Kamenashi. We'd make great hosts. Remember that job we did where we had to pretend to be hosts? We'd be raking in the cash that way, too."

"We do this because if we quit then they'll fucking kill us." Kamenashi replies. "Don't wanna die, do you?"

"I want a blowjob," Akanishi says, taps his fingers on the steering way and watches the hotel's entrance. "Supposedly, she never spends the night. If tonight's the night that she does, I'm going to get fucking pissed." 

Kamenashi taps the cigarette in the ashtray. The job should be easy, but they’re feeling antsy because they've been waiting for five hours. When he has the chance to think things through, he freaks out.

Things could go wrong. They could get caught. This might be a set-up. Maybe she's armed or maybe she knows they're watching.

He thinks he's fucking crazy.

Akanishi turns toward him, then. Kamenashi looks at him, swallows, lets out a shaky breath. He feels like he's going to burst, so he leans in fast, kisses Akanishi hard. 

Hard, desperate, smoky. His teeth scrape against Akanishi's bottom lip. He hears the startled, strangled moan in the back of the other's throat. Then there's a hand on the back of his neck, another hand in his hair. Their suits are stifling (Armani, too, probably just like the guy who's fucking the woman they're supposed to be watching for).

Kamenashi pulls away and his hands are fisted in Akanishi's suit. They breathe heavy. Akanishi's eyes are surprised, wide, and in the darkness, he almost looks childish.

"Still want that blowjob?" Kamenashi asks. He watches Akanishi open his mouth to say something, but his tongue darts out to sweep across his lips instead. He's hesitating. He's thinking. "I need this," Kamenashi adds. "You want it."

Akanishi pulls Kamenashi toward him.

They fumble in the small space. Kamenashi presses his lips to Akanishi's neck. He sucks hard, runs his tongue along the hot patch of skin. His hands unbutton the other's jacket hurriedly, and Akanishi makes a noise of protest, mumbles something about the price of designer suits and custom tailoring.

"You don't really care," Kamenashi says when he pulls his head up, when his hands are beneath Akanishi's designer shirt and dancing up his warm stomach toward his chest. Kamenashi presses forward until they're both in the driver's side seat, Kamenashi halfway in Akanishi's lap.

"Kinda," Akanishi replies, and hisses when Kamenashi's nails dig into his chest, when Kamenashi drags his hands down until they meet the waist of Akanishi's pants.

Kamenashi undoes Akanishi's belt buckle quickly, unbuttons and unzips his pants before the other can moan his name ( _Kazuya_ , not Kamenashi, and the hairs on the back of Kamenashi's neck stand). He kicks off his shoes, adjusts his body so that he straddles Akanishi's lap. It's a tight fit and the steering wheel presses against the small of his back.

"You're turning into some sort of fucking sex addict," Akanishi says, breathes raggedly as one of Kamenashi's hands wraps around his cock. "Not that I'm complaining, really, but it's a little worrisome." He bites back a moan, rolls his hips against Kamenashi's hand. "Just like that," he says breathily, buries his hands in Kamenashi's hair and pulls the other close for a kiss.

Akanishi's tongue is in Kamenashi's mouth and Kamenashi leans forward, rocks against him. He's hard now too, and the car is hot, and he needs—

Akanishi rolls his hips again, this time presses against Kamenashi's length through his pants. Kamenashi shudders, moans into Akanishi's mouth before pulling away.

"If you want that blowjob, you'll have to adjust," he says, voice thick. Akanishi is still rolling his hips, watching Kamenashi with half-lidded dark eyes. His face is wanton, needy, his teeth biting his lower lip. One of his hands move to the side of the seat, pulls on the handle that makes it fall back, and when it does, Kamenashi is taken by surprise (he falls forward onto Akanishi's chest).

"She'd better stay in there all night," Akanishi says, adjusts so that he lies further up the seat, so Kamenashi can bend forward until Akanishi feels his breath on his cock. "We're fucking screwed if we fuck this up. I'm blaming you," he says.

"We're not as replaceable as you think," Kamenashi breathes, presses his lips against the tip of Akanishi's length. "They need us, you know." And he watches Akanishi's face as he takes his cock in, slow. Kamenashi watches Akanishi watch him with dark eyes with his hands still buried in Kamenashi's hair. They urge him on, pull him in gently. More, more.

_A little more_.

Akanishi bucks his hips and Kamenashi gags, but he takes him in deep, and Akanishi gasps hard, struggles to keep his breaths under control.

Kamenashi feels alive, because Akanishi, beneath him, solid and hot and gasping and half-naked and exposed, is alive. Because this is what he associates with existing (sex with Akanishi Jin).

It's kind of fucked up, he supposes, but Akanishi feels good in his mouth, in his hands. Akanishi lets himself go entirely, and it's just the two of them and everything seems so _clear_.

"Fuck, _Kazuya_ ," Akanishi says, voice ragged. He's close. Kamenashi can feel it in Akanishi's tightening body, can hear it in his tightening voice.

Akanishi comes and Kamenashi is tight-lipped. He feels Akanishi shudder, feels his hands pull on his hair roughly. He sucks hard, watches Akanishi throw his head back and cry out.

He pulls away, slowly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans forward, presses his body against Akanishi's and presses his lips to the junction of his neck and collarbone.

He's hard, still.

"I can take care of you," Akanishi says. His voice sends a shiver down Kamenashi's spine. "Return the favor, you know," he says.

Kamenashi doesn't reply. He knows Akanishi knows, and he rocks against him gently as the other unbuckles his pants, slips his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and holds Kamenashi's length firmly.

He strokes him slow, soft. Akanishi's hands are big and rough, but they're careful, and Kamenashi just wants to thrust against him, to push and pull and go at his own pace.

Akanishi lets go of him when he tries, and a strangled, pitiful noise of protest escapes his lips and muffles itself against Akanishi's neck.

"Don't even try it," Akanishi says. "We're doing this my way."

Kamenashi presses his body flush against the other so that their hip bones meet. “I just gave you a blowjob, you know.”

Akanishi doesn't answer, has him breathing heavy and ragged for a long time. He pulls at the right moments, smoothes his thumb over the head. His strokes are languid and lazy, and all Kamenashi can do is moan and roll his hips and dig his nails into Akanishi's shoulders.

They're silent except for Kamenashi's moans, except for his ragged breathing and the friction of their bodies. Kamenashi looks up at Akanishi, watches him through the fringe of his dark, damp hair, half-opens his mouth to say something, but only a shuddering breath comes out.

"The look on your face is so worth it," Akanishi says, and Kamenashi doesn't really know what he means.

"Just give me my handjob," he says, squeezes his eyes shut. He's so close, so so so close. He can feel the wave coming, but Akanishi is preventing it. "You're a fucking dick, Akanishi. You're fucking teasing me," he says. The words become muffled as Akanishi presses their lips together.

"The look on your face is so worth it," Akanishi repeats against his lips, before his hand begins to stroke rougher, faster.

And Kamenashi moans against the corner of Akanishi's mouth, cries out, because, yes, there's the edge, with Akanishi's hand moving fast over his cock and Akanishi's tongue pressing into his mouth. And Kamenashi's body shudders and his nails dig into Akanishi's shoulders harder, maybe enough to draw blood, enough to hurt because the other cries out. Kamenashi rocks forward, lets out a strangled moan and trembles. He opens his eyes, watches Akanishi's eyes, watches them watch his own and try to look into his fucking soul.

He collapses against Akanishi's chest, wraps his arms around the other's neck and breathes heavy. It's hot and their suits are sweaty and it smells like sex.

"I see her," Akanishi says suddenly, a few moments later. He sits up and Kamenashi moves back to the passenger side seat. They struggle to zip their pants, to buckle their belts. Their hair is mussed, their skin pink and their lips swollen. "She has a nice ass," Akanishi comments.

Kamenashi searches the back seat for the gun Akanishi is supposed to use. It's a hit. "Remember the plan?" He asks. His head is still in something of a daze.

"I've got it," Akanishi says. He opens his door and shivers. The air outside is chilly. "Follow her until the third alley. Bullet to the mouth so that it ruins her pretty face. Rob her for kicks, maybe."

"Be careful," Kamenashi says. "I'll bring the car up to the next block."

Akanishi nods and Kamenashi hands him his gun. Akanishi has one leg out the door before he turns back to Kamenashi.

"Thanks," he says, and smiles.

"You too," Kamenashi says, stiffens when Akanishi leans in to brush his lips against his cheek.

Fuck.


	3. Absence (makes the heart grow fonder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamenashi and Akanishi haven't spoken in six months.

"Ten billion yen." It's a lot of money. Kamenashi would take it.

"No. I can't—"

"There's really no choice, Fuji-san. Knowing who we are, you can't say ‘No.’ You know what happens." Kamenashi's eyes flicker to the guard on his left and the man reaches into his suit jacket.

Fuji blanches when he sees the gun.

"Kitagawa-san is willing to let go of a lot of money for your little part of the Kobe port."

"I—" The man looks down at his hands. They are folded in front of him on the desk. They tremble.

The docks have been in his family for generations. He can't do this.

"I don't want to get my business involved with Kitagawa-san," Fuji says. "I'm a good person. I won't tell anyone that you've been here." The trembling slows and he looks in Kamenashi's eyes. Kamenashi sees them, hard, determined.

But he'll break, Kamenashi thinks. His eyes flicker to the photo on the man's desk. It's in a homemade frame labeled 'Midori and Papa.' "The deal is generous," Kamenashi says, reaches inside his suit pocket and pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

"Please don't smoke."

Kamenashi leans back in his chair, raises his feet and rests them on the desk. They need to be cleaned.

He blows smoke rings like Akanishi taught him too.

"It's because what comes first is your family, right? You don't want them involved in this." Kamenashi watches Fuji who watches him. 

Fuji nods, slowly. "The offer is generous," he concedes. "But I can't."

Kamenashi crushes the half-smoked cigarette on the armrest of his chair. "Well." He'll play his trump card now. Draw them in with sympathy, first, and then— "The deal's off, then." He stands, nods to the man at his left who puts his gun back in his suit jacket. "Let's go."

"You aren't going to send others, are you?" Fuji asks. The determination in his eyes fades to fear.

"We don't need you," Kamenashi says. "We have your daughter." He watches the man turn white. Kamenashi keeps his face unaffected and puts his hands in his pockets. Make it look like her life is nothing. Make it look like this is all in a day's work. "Like I said, the deal—"

"Please. The deal—" A change of heart.

"It's off the table, Fuji-san," Kamenashi says, his voice, sing-song. "Too late. She's ours. I'm a pretty nice guy, Fuji-san, but you should see some of the other men I know."

"Just. Please. Can't we—"

"A new deal, then, Fuji-san?" Kamenashi asks. "Maybe." He sits back down. "What do you think?"

"The docks for my daughter."

Kamenashi smirks. He looks toward the man on his right. The man opens a briefcase, produces papers. "Done."

It's easy, so easy to play with people. Fuji won't sell his docks for ten billion yen, but he'll give them up for his daughter. 

Fuji signs the papers. As Kamenashi gets up to leave, the phone rings.

"Maybe it's your daughter," Kamenashi says, jokingly.

Fuji answers. Kamenashi hears the voice on the other line clearly. "Papa. Papa, are we eating out tonight?"

Kamenashi can't look at Fuji as his face pales further. Kamenashi can't look at Fuji when his whole body goes rigid, when he freezes. He looks like a corpse.

"Midori?" Fuji says, softly.

"Papa?"

"Where are you?"

"At home. With Mama. We just got back from shopping."

Kamenashi puts on his sunglasses. Fuji trembles.

"I'll be home soon." The phone clicks off.

Kamenashi turns to him then. "We'll keep in touch, Fuji-san." He smiles.

"You lied."

"The deal was a good one," Kamenashi replies.

\---

"Are you okay?" Kamenashi calls Akanishi and those are the first words out of the other's mouth. He's surprised.

"Fine," Kamenashi replies, slowly. He clears his throat. "Hey." He looks at the bowl of ramen in front of him, at his surroundings (the dingy shop with bad lighting). "Why?" He doesn't know why he called Akanishi. He told himself that he wouldn't.

"We haven't talked in six months," Akanishi says. He doesn't say more. It's over, old news. "How are you?"

"Good." Kamenashi idly twirls a pair of chopsticks in his thin fingers. "I just finished up a deal," he says, lowers his voice. 

"No attempts on your life?" Akanishi's voice kids, but he's not joking.

"Three or four threats. A few gunshots. The upper arm—"

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

"I'm just kidding." Kamenashi looks at his ramen again. Untouched. He doesn't have much of an appetite anymore. "How are you?" He asks.

"Good," Akanishi says. "Studying. Finals are next week." He pauses. "It's good to hear from you," he says, carefully and slowly, like he's reading from a messily-written script.

Kamenashi hisses when he takes a sip of the broth. It's still hot.

"Are you okay?" Akanishi asks. "What're you doing?"

"I burnt my tongue on ramen," Kamenashi says. He laughs.

"I wish you were in Tokyo," Akanishi says. There's a strange, nostalgic note to his voice that Kamenashi isn't quite sure he wants to hear.

He's not ready for this.

"You could help me study." Akanishi pauses. "And I'm doing this crossword puzzle. It's really hard." He laughs.

Kamenashi freezes. A crossword puzzle.

"Kamenashi? Are you there?"

"Sorry," Kamenashi says. Calling Akanishi was a mistake.

"Kamenashi," Akanishi says, and he sounds serious again. "You know, we need to talk. About—"

"Don't worry about it," Kamenashi says hastily. "You do your thing and I'll do mine. Like these last six months—"

"Kamenashi, I—"

Kamenashi's phone beeps. A call on the other line. He frowns and looks at the cell phone screen. Nagase. From his office line. It's important. "I'll call later."

\---

Decoy. He's a decoy. He grips the briefcase tight. These bodyguards—he doesn't trust them. Kamenashi would much rather have Akanishi around. Akanishi who is finishing his degree at Sophia University. Akanishi who is in Tokyo, four hundred kilometers from Kobe. Akanishi who kills him in his dreams.

Kamenashi exhales shakily. His heart beats fast.

One of the guards leans in close. The real deal has just been processed. This one will commence within the next half-hour. Kamenashi nods, sips red wine as the man pulls away.

Despite his negotiation skills, the bosses decided that it would be better if Kamenashi didn't do the actual deal. He's been in Kobe for months. Other groups know who he is. He's prolific, perhaps a liability because of it.

The lounge is quiet except for the pianist on the small stage.

"How's Akanishi?" One of the guards asks. He stands opposite of where Kamenashi sits. Kamenashi remembers him vaguely from Tokyo. He’s transferred to Kobe a couple of years previous.

"What does it matter?" Kamenashi asks. His eyes flicker up to meet the man's and he runs his fingers along the lip of the glass in his right hand. "He's finishing university," he says, finally.

"He always wanted to," the man says. Kamenashi's eyes narrow. "I hear you guys fought. About you coming to Kobe. It must have been jarring. You guys always worked together under Takizawa—"

"The good-bye could have been better." Kamenashi cuts him off.

"If I were him, I'd be pissed you pulled ahead."

Kamenashi finishes off his wine.

"He's pure talent, though," another guard says. Kamenashi recognizes him too. He's usually with the Domotos. "Effortless. Stuff comes easy to that kid. Give him time."

"Hard work counts for a lot, too," the guard from Tokyo says. "Hard work will get you further than talent, right Kamenashi-san?"

Kamenashi feels enclosed. He checks his watch. Twenty minutes.

"Kamenashi-san?"

The pianist stops playing. He stands, wipes imaginary dust off his hands. Kamenashi sees him walk toward the bar. His moves are very deliberate, almost practiced.

Something isn't right.

Kamenashi looks at the guard across from him.

"Kamenashi-san?"

"Get me out of here. Watch the pianist." His stomach lurches. His mind is off. He should have noticed it before—

The pianist came into the lounge after he and the guards did. Since then, only staff have come and gone. Kamenashi stands. 

The pianist looks in his direction and his eyes lock on Kamenashi's. Kamenashi blinks and then a guard blocks his view. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket for his gun. His limbs feel sluggish.

The dim lights of the lounge suddenly brighten. Kamenashi holds his free hand up to shield his eyes.

Something's not right. "Did the lights brighten?" He asks, feels suddenly dizzy and stumbles into a chair. It's hot. His heart beats faster, faster.

"The wine—" Someone says, and then everything is black.

\---

The first thing Kamenashi sees when he wakes up is Akanishi's face. Too close. Their noses almost touch.

"Go home and study, Akanishi," Kamenashi says groggily, and draws back. "What the hell are you doing in Kobe?"

Akanishi sits back. He sits in a chair pulled up beside the hospital bed. He wears street clothes and he looks like he hasn't slept in a couple days. One of his hands touches Kamenashi's arms through the covers. "I wanted to be with you."

"Huh?"

Akanishi laughs. "Takki wanted me to come. Domoto-san told him about your outburst. Takki was worried."

Kamenashi remembers, a little bit. He'd regained consciousness after being admitted. The guards were there, too, and he remembers screaming at them, cursing at them. It hadn't mattered if he was a decoy. He could have died—and Nagase was a fucking _idiot_ for hiring them. And Kamenashi was going to have to hack up his fucking stomach to recover—and Akanishi—with half his brain on women and food—could have done a better fucking job.

Then they drugged him back to unconsciousness.

"That was nothing," Kamenashi says, and Akanishi laughs again.

"Do you want water?" He asks, reaches for the pitcher beside the bed. "Poison-free. I got it myself." He grins wide. Kamenashi smiles wanly.

He tries to sit up, but there's a lethargic weakness in his limbs and joints. He feels like he's been asleep for years. Akanishi has one hand on his back, one hand holding the cup of water to his lips.

Kamenashi feels like a child, but he drinks. He pulls back when the cup is empty, and Akanishi fills it again.

"How long have you been here?" He asks.

"Four days," Akanishi replies, holds the cup to his mouth again. "Are you hungry?"

Kamenashi draws back. "What about your tests?" His lips form a grim line. Takizawa should know better.

"Are you my mother?" Akanishi frowns, puts the cup beside the pitcher and helps Kamenashi lean back. "I'll tell a nurse you're awake." He stands.

"Don't." Kamenashi is surprised at the volume and force of his voice. "Let's talk," he says, softer. His eyes flicker toward Akanishi's face. Akanishi looks surprised. "You look tired," he says. You look like shit, he means.

Akanishi blinks and sits on the edge of the hospital bed. His index finger trails the IV to Kamenashi's hand. "Can't sleep when I'm worried," he says. "You aged me thirty years." He leans in. "See the bags under my eyes?"

Akanishi is too close again. Their noses almost touch. But Kamenashi is more awake now, more lucid. Akanishi radiates heat and smells spicy and woody. Currants and nutmeg and pepper and oak.

Kamenashi leans forward so their foreheads touch. "You're too close," he says, and he can see his reflection in Akanishi's eyes.

Akanishi is warm. Akanishi is alive. This is real.

Six months is a long time.

Akanishi's hand is on his cheek. Akanishi's thumb is on his bottom lip. This isn't a dream.

Six months is a really long time.

Suddenly, everything is clear.

This is a transition that's different from the one he expected out of Kobe.

But, this is what he wants.

This is unfinished business, and Kamenashi shuts his eyes before closing the distance between their lips.


	4. dream a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Akanishi shows up, Kamenashi's surprised.

"Akanishi." Kamenashi's eyes widen. He hasn't seen the other in a month. He hasn't spoken to him in a month. Not since he left Tokyo and Akanishi decided to stay behind. "What're you doing here?" He clambers into the stretch limo and the chauffeur closes the door behind him. "Where are the guards?"

"I'm your bodyguard tonight," Akanishi says. He doesn't look up from his crossword puzzle. People change quickly, Kamenashi thinks, because Akanishi never did crossword puzzles before.

"All the way from Tokyo?" It's warm in the limo. Kamenashi sits opposite of Akanishi, crosses his legs and watches the other. "They sent you to be my bodyguard? All the way from Tokyo?"

"All the way from To—ah! That's the answer to five across. Tokyo."

Kamenashi looks out the window. The limo is moving. The scenery blurs by. "We're going to Osaka," he says. It's been a month since Tokyo. His eyes flicker to Akanishi. Akanishi has that ring on his pinky.

"Where's yours?" Akanishi asks. He finally looks up from his puzzle. His hair is lighter, Kamenashi realizes. It is light brown and shorter. And his eyes look more tired.

"I lost it," Kamenashi lies. It's at the bottom of a storm drain.

"Truth. Eight down. I'm almost done the puzzle, Kazuya,” Akanishi says. He smiles. Kamenashi tightens. He feels uneasy when Akanishi says his first name.

Kamenashi thinks the limo is stifling. "They sent you? All the way from Tokyo?" He's disbelieving.

"All the way from Tokyo."

"What about school?"

"What about school?" Akanishi asks. He looks at Kamenashi like he's an alien. "What about school? You're here."

"Heart. Twenty-four down," Kamenashi finds himself saying. He frowns.

"That's my sixth finished crossword puzzle today," Akanishi says, and he holds it up so Kamenashi can see. "Come see, Kamenashi," he says, and pats the seat beside him.

"Huh?"

"Come look," Akanishi says, and Kamenashi moves so that he sits beside Akanishi.

It's been one month since Tokyo and Akanishi. "You filled in all the boxes with smiley faces," Kamenashi says. He looks up into Akanishi's eyes dubiously. "What the hell is going on?" He asks. "Why are you here?"

Akanishi lets the crossword puzzle and pen fall to the floor as he turns toward Kamenashi.

Kamenashi forgets to breathe.

"I wanted to be with you," Akanishi says. He looks into Kamenashi's eyes, but he's nervous. Kamenashi can tell. His eyes move toward the side, flicker to look out the window. "I just wanted to be with you," Akanishi says, softly, so softly that Kamenashi only knows what he says from the movement of his lips.

"You said you weren't coming," Kamenashi says, and he looks straight at Akanishi. "You said you were staying in Tokyo. You said you were going to finish university. You—"

"You," Akanishi says. "I just wanted to be with you." And he doesn't offer any explanation besides that, leans in and Kamenashi finally remembers to breathe. Akanishi smells spicy and woody. Like currants—nutmeg and pepper and oak.

Kamenashi misses that.

"Kamenashi," Akanishi says. He looks very tired. There are dark bags beneath his eyes. "Did you hear me?" He asks.

Kamenashi snaps back to attention. Kamenashi remembers. "You know that's not what I wanted," he says quietly and leans away. "I wanted us to stay together to work together—"

"Don't kid yourself, Kamenashi," Akanishi whispers against his ear. And his breath is hot and sends a shiver up Kamenashi's spine. He feels heady, dazed. Everything is cloudy and vague.

Akanishi's scent envelopes the space. It's thick. Kamenashi can't breathe without breathing in Akanishi. And Akanishi shifts so that he balances on his knees. Akanishi shifts so that he can push Kamenashi down onto the seat and Kamenashi can feel all the bumps of the road beneath him and all of Akanishi's body above him.

"A month," Akanishi says, and his lips are on Kamenashi's. Exactly the same as before, except maybe more demanding, more commanding, a little more chapped. "A month," he says again, and his voice is rough and Kamenashi shuts his eyes tight.

"A month," he concedes, and presses up against Akanishi. 

His body wants _this_ and his mind wants _that_.

It’s all very confusing.

Akanishi's lips are on his jaw, on his neck, on Kamenashi's own lips again. Open and warm. Kamenashi misses this.

Akanishi always was good at kissing.

"I'm sorry," Kamenashi says, when Akanishi pulls away. "I'm sorry for Tokyo."

Then, the click. That tell-tale click.

Kamenashi knows that sound well.

"Akanishi," he breathes, and feels the metal hard and cold against his temple. "Akanishi," he says, and his eyes fly open and Akanishi's eyes are dark and intense and Kamenashi shudders because he's turned on and trembles because he's afraid.

"They want me to kill you," Akanishi says. "They want me to kill you," he repeats, and Kamenashi opens his mouth to respond but no sound comes out.

"Do you know what they said, Kamenashi?" Akanishi asks, and Kamenashi sees him pull that gun away from his temple. "They said it was me or you."

Kamenashi opens his mouth to say something, maybe to say that he doesn’t want them to hurt Akanishi, so, maybe—

"Of course," Akanishi says. "I'd choose you." And Kamenashi’s eyes widen when the gun is pressed back against his temple. Akanishi's finger pulls on the trigger and everything moves in slow-motion. Like the turtles clinging to the tinted windows and the water filling up the backseat.

"Akanishi."

"Don't be afraid."

\---

Kamenashi wakes up alone and in a cold sweat. He sits up. His alarm clock reads four-twenty-eight in the morning but Kamenashi reminds himself that it's twelve minutes too fast.

One month. They haven't spoken in one month. They haven't seen each other in one month.

Kamenashi wonders what it means when he dreams of the one person he trusts turning his back on him.

\---

In Tokyo, Akanishi wakes up with a crick in his neck. His notes are crumpled and there is a pen in his hand. His eyes squint at the bright light of his cell phone.

It reads four-sixteen.

He wonders what Kamenashi is doing.

\---

"You look tired," one of the guards says as Kamenashi pulls off his sunglasses. He couldn't fall asleep after that dream.

"Do I?" Kamenashi asks.

They climb into the limo. Kamenashi sits opposite the two guards. There is another in the front seat. They're going to Osaka. Kamenashi feels uneasy. He's a little superstitious.

"Forgive me for saying so, Kamenashi-san, but you look like shit," the other guard says, and Kamenashi narrows his eyes.

"I'm fine," he says, and leans his head against the window. "Do either of you have information on what's going on in Tokyo?" He asks.

"You're from Tokyo, right Kamenashi-san?" One of them asks. "I don't pay much attention. There's too much going on. It moves too fast."

"Ah."

"Why?"

"Just wondering." He wonders what Akanishi is doing for Takki. He wonders how busy Akanishi is with school. He wonders about his dream.

In his dream, Akanishi’s appearance means there’s unfinished business.

But death? It symbolizes a transition.

He considers calling Akanishi, pulls out his phone and turns it over in his hand. Akanishi is on speed-dial. Number one.

Transition.


	5. Important Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akanishi decides not to go with Kamenashi.

Kamenashi comes home late one night. A job on his own—they're becoming increasingly frequent. There's a woman in the kitchen that he doesn't recognize. It happens sometimes, but Kamenashi is apprehensive when she introduces herself as Akanishi's girlfriend.

That's never happened before.

Kamenashi greets her politely, bows and says, "I'm Kamenashi, Akanishi's roommate. It's nice to meet you."

\---

Kamenashi showers. The job was uneventful and the anticipation was heavier than any action. His heart doesn't pump loudly and his blood doesn't rush to his head (though the long cut on his arm stings a little and oozes some red). He feels relaxed and languid, not particularly afraid of an uncertain future or all of the opportunities that he might have to die.

It's better, he decides beneath the hot spray, to not worry so much. Carpe diem. _Seize the day_.

But to be honest, he doesn't want the day, just Akanishi's existence by his side as reassurance.

He can hear them through the wall, and he feels annoyed, angry. It's her make-up that he saw in the kitchen, caked and smearing beneath her eyes. It's her body that passed by him on the way to Akanishi's bedroom, spicy and woody and something girly too-sweet. It's her mouth, her hair, her everything.

Akanishi, Kamenashi thinks as he turns off the water, could probably do better.

He's toweling off when Akanishi cries out, and he freezes.

\---

Kamenashi's in his room rewrapping his arm when he hears Akanishi's door open. He hears her giggling and he hears her enter the bathroom and turn on the water. He's taping the bandages when Akanishi opens his bedroom door and stands in the doorway.

"What's up?" Kamenashi asks. He doesn't look up from his bandaging, but he can see Akanishi out of the corner of his eye. Akanishi wears a pair of loose, light jeans and no shirt. His hair looks sweaty and mussed and sticks out in all directions. "Why don't you take a shower?"

"How'd your job go?" Akanishi asks, doesn't seem to hear Kamenashi's questions. His eyes flicker to the bandaged arm. "Did you get that taken care of?" He approaches, stands in front of Kamenashi and pulls on the other's arm so that he can look at it.

"Knife. It's fine. It's clean. This is a new bandage," he says, clicks his tongue in annoyance as Akanishi begins to unwrap it.

"You should change it every few hours," Akanishi says, runs his fingers along the line. "Clean it, but like—. Did you rub it with alcohol?"

"I know what to do," Kamenashi says, pulls his arm back. "And it's not as bad as it seems."

Akanishi shrugs, doesn't let go of Kamenashi's arm and begins to rewrap it. "You're calm about it today though, aren't you? Normally you'd bitch about how your arm almost got cut off."

"It's fine," Kamenashi replies, looks at his arm. "Girlfriend, huh?" He asks.

"Sort of." Kamenashi raises an eyebrow and Akanishi pulls the bandages too tight. "I really like her," he says. "We've gone out a few times."

"She's pretty," he says. "Not really my type."

"What's your type, then, Kamenashi?" Akanishi asks, and smiles.

"What're you doing?"

They both look to the doorway. She stands there dressed in street clothes, towel-drying her hair.

"Kamenashi cut himself," Akanishi says, finishes taping it up and pats it to let Kamenashi know he's done. He moves toward her and the doorway.

"I hope you're okay, Kamenashi-san," she says. She looks genuinely concerned. "Hey, Jin. It's late but I'm going to go home because—"

"You shouldn't be around outside so late at night," Kamenashi says. "Why don't you stay?"

"Don't worry about it. I called a cab. I just have class tomorrow morning and everything's at home—"

"I can drive you," Akanishi says. "No problem."

She smiles. "I'll call you when I get home, promise."

Akanishi kisses her on the corner of her lips, soft and sweet. Kamenashi feels a little bit sick, and he wonders if he lost more blood than he thought.

When he looks up again, they're gone, at the front door. He can hear vague words whispered and the door opening and shutting. Akanishi is back inside the bedroom a few minutes later with two bottles of water. He throws one to Kamenashi, sits beside him on the bed.

They sit silently.

"So what's your type, Kamenashi?" Akanishi asks, finally.

"Good night, Akanishi," Kamenashi says, and reaches over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand.

Akanishi doesn't leave, sits there in the dark. "Am I?" He asks. “Is your type ‘Akanishi Jin’?”

Kamenashi shifts his weight and the bed creaks beneath them. "We're not like that," he says softly. He adjusts to the darkness and Akanishi still sits on the edge of the bed, eyes watching him. "We do it because—not because we want a relationship—there's tension. It's emotional, but it's raw, like—" He exhales heavily, tries to collect his thoughts. Kamenashi is suddenly acutely aware of Akanishi's soft breaths. "It's like. Emotional release because we share that—what we do—not love or, and—"

Akanishi kisses him. She lingers. Her perfume is in Akanishi's hair and her sweat is on his skin. Kamenashi leans into the kiss anyway.

Suddenly, the hall lights are on. They pull away to look up, but Akanishi's still too close to Kamenashi and Kamenashi's hands are still are on his chest.

"Are you fucking serious, Jin?"

"—hey."

And Akanishi follows her out the door.

Kamenashi leans his head against the headboard, takes a deep breath and a gulp of water. It's over between them. Akanishi won't lie. His policy is _honesty_. Black and white. Right and wrong.

And he'll move on easily, too, because by telling the truth, he's convinced everything will eventually work itself out.

It usually happens like that. To Akanishi.

Kamenashi is a pragmatist. He'll say what he has to in order to get what he needs and what he wants.

\---

"We really needed her," Takizawa says. "We really needed her. You worked on her for six weeks. And you lost her because she caught you in bed with someone else."

"Yes," Akanishi says, answers the statement. He watches Takizawa with his head up and chin forward, but Kamenashi knows that this is not a situation he particularly wants to be in.

"Right after you were with her."

"Yes."

Takizawa brings one hand to his forehead, pushes his bangs back and looks at Kamenashi. "Kamenashi, can't you keep him in line? You live—"

"It was my fault," Kamenashi says, and Akanishi looks at him in surprise. Kamenashi watches Takizawa. "It's my fault he got caught," he says, but doesn't offer more. "I would have been more careful if I'd known she was a job."

Takizawa's lips form a grim line, but he doesn't say anything to lecture them. "We're not getting her father's ports anytime soon, then," he says, and he pulls open his top right desk drawer. He pulls out two cards and hands one to each of them.

"What is it?" Akanishi asks, and Kamenashi opens his.

"Kitagawa wants the two of you in Kobe."

"It's sudden," Kamenashi says, eyes skimming over the neatly-typed characters. "The end of next week."

"It's an opportunity," Takizawa says. "Kyoto, Kobe, and Osaka are where most of the territory lies. The deals are bigger, more important. So are the targets, the clients. Everything."

\---

Kamenashi finds out the day before they are supposed to go to Kobe. "What do you mean, Shinjuku?"

"I'm staying in Tokyo," Akanishi repeats. "Next semester I'll be back at Sophia. And I'll be working in Shinjuku."

"That's not Kobe," Kamenashi says. He stands after he finishes up taping the last of his boxes, brushes imaginary dust off the front of his jeans. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Before now," Akanishi says lamely, and leans against the wall. He looks at Kamenashi.

"Too late for that, isn't it?" Kamenashi asks. Their boxes are piled in the hallway and in the kitchen. They're stacked high, Kamenashi's are labeled with sharpie and Akanishi's have 'this side up' pointing in every direction. It's their last night in the apartment, but that has yet to catch up with them.

"You'll be good," Akanishi reassures, "working in Kobe."

Kamenashi doesn't answer. The only think keeping the butterflies in his stomach at bay had been the prospect of Akanishi being there with him. He suddenly feels very anxious, sick.

"I'll visit," Akanishi says, softly.

Kamenashi tries to wrap his mind around it. "I don't understand why you'd rather stay," he says. "It's better going to Kobe better than finishing university right now. You can go back to Sophia anytime, but Kitagawa isn't going to wait for you."

"You finished university," Akanishi says. "And this job is the most important thing to you." He pauses. "It's not my most important thing. And it's not like I'm stopping, just staying here, just doing two things at once, like before—"

"What else is there, Akanishi? This is what we've done since _before_ university, since Takizawa took our sorry asses in. What else is real and tangible besides us and this job? It's our world. We're obligated to it."

Akanishi pushes off the wall, faces Kamenashi. "You're a child, Kamenashi," he says, and Kamenashi looks up at him in surprise. "You're all theory and no experience."

Akanishi is the child, Kamenashi thinks. He's reckless, careless. Kamenashi is sensible and realistic. They have to do their job. They're bound to it, and but it's also the best path to follow.

Whatever Akanishi could do with his university degree, Kamenashi knows, isn't as beneficial as doing what Kitagawa says. Not now, anyway, and besides—

They'd always worked together.

"You're not very aware, you know?" Akanishi continues. "I mean, of yourself, of people, of subjective things," he explains. "Your world is so black and white. Happy or sad. Dead or alive. This or that. For you, Kobe is perfect. For me, it's wrong."

Akanishi is uncomfortable. His weight shuffles awkwardly and he plays with that dumb pinky ring, bites the inside of his lip and speaks his mind like he's flustered.

Kamenashi just feels angry, like he could throw his own ring down a storm drain.

"So this is it," Kamenashi says finally. He runs a hand through his messy hair. "So we're separating tomorrow."

"Don't say it like—"

"Akanishi, our paths fork here," Kamenashi says. "You said it. Kobe is for me, not for you." He laughs. "So don't bother with anything concerning me."

Akanishi sighs, shuts his eyes and swallows. "You say it so harshly," he says, and looks back at Kamenashi. "That's like you. That's what I'm talking about. Black and white. Live together, fuck each other, but once something changes a little bit, the whole world is off kilter and we're strangers."

"You said it," Kamenashi repeats. "Our lives split."

"You know," Akanishi says, and approaches the other. "You know I didn't mean it that way. You know it's not as clean as that, but to deal with it, you make it that way."

Kamenashi trusts Akanishi—trusted Akanishi. But Akanishi staying in Tokyo feels like betrayal, and really, it _is_ as clean as that. "What am I supposed to do, then, Akanishi? Because to me, it really is as clean as that."

Akanishi looks angry and frustrated. Akanishi looks like he wants to look away and never look back.

"Go to Kobe, Kamenashi. Since you're so intent on it, never speak to me again. Do whatever the hell you want, because like every other fucking time, what I say means zero to you."

Kamenashi doesn't answer. He watches Akanishi pull on his shoes and jacket. He lights a cigarette.

He closes his eyes to take a drag, and a hand plucks the stick out of his fingers. Akanishi is in front of him. Kamenashi sees his eyes are too dark, too intense, scrutinizing. The look is always unnerving because it's a stare that pierces Kamenashi's skin and finds his soul.

"You're an idiot," Akanishi says softly. "You're selfish." He drops the cigarette on the linoleum, crushes it below the toe of his shoe. "You drive me absolutely insane when we argue, when we disagree, because you refuse to compromise."

Kamenashi feels numb, and he looks down at the cigarette before there's a hand on his cheek tilting his face back up.

"But," Akanishi says, and laughs like he can't believe himself, "but, I'm in love with you, you know. Even if you say otherwise, even if this is nothing to you, this—you—. You are my most important thing. And I've always wanted to do everything for you, but now I want to be selfish. I want myself to be put first. I want to do something for me, not for you, and not for us."

He closes his eyes, presses his lips against Kamenashi's ear and murmurs.

"So I'm not going to Kobe."

Akanishi lets Kamenashi go and moves toward the front door.

"I'm going out, Kamenashi," he says.


	6. Okaeri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamenashi is back.

When Kamenashi finally returns to Tokyo, he's spent a total of twenty-four months in Kobe. Akanishi's done university and still in Shinjuku, and apparently their old apartment has been rented out to two university students.

"Two years is a long time," Kamenashi says as Akanishi leads him into his new apartment. It's already furnished and all of his stuff is already there, the boxes stacked neatly in the hallway and kitchen.

He arrived in the back of a limo with tinted windows, Akanishi waiting for him in front of the apartment complex, big dark sunglasses and broad shoulders—his suit impeccably dry-cleaned and his hair its natural black.

The guards turned him over to Akanishi's care, and Akanishi led him past the wary-looking doorman into the lobby with its marble floors and high ceilings, hand on the small of his back the entire time.

And then Akanishi led him to the elevators and paid the liftman to step out (five thousand yen? ten thousand yen?) and as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Akanishi pressed Kamenashi against the polished wood wall and kissed him like he was trying to make up for two years of nothing.

Two years of nothing, no contact, making their way down their respective, independent paths. Kamenashi didn't ask anyone about Akanishi and Akanishi didn't ask anyone about Kamenashi.

Eighteen months since the day at the hospital, since Kamenashi said that they had to talk.

And kissed Akanishi.

Then Kamenashi told Akanishi that he was sorry for Tokyo, sorry for not caring and being selfish, for doing everything wrong and making nothing right. And he said that he still didn't understand, because he was who he was and it was difficult to change and difficult to admit to it all. Kamenashi said that realization still hadn't hit him fully, and he was trying to figure it all out, but he was sure that—well, he admitted, he wasn't too sure about anything except for maybe Akanishi being important to him.

He inhaled sharply, exhaled shakily, looked down at the IV in his hand and laughed short, fake. And he shuddered a little because he realized that this, admitting this, was more fearsome than death for some inexplicable reason.

And then Akanishi tilted his chin up and smiled at him.

Kamenashi said that before Akanishi came, while they weren't speaking, he tried to forget, spent his time trying to transition to independence and spent his time working and trying to move on. But Akanishi was always, _> always_> in the back of his mind, in his dreams even, but he stopped there so he wouldn't have to explain that.

And it was stupid, very stupid, how he was dependent on Akanishi, how he needed Akanishi. For everything. And it was stupid, very stupid, how he had never admitted it to himself before, because it was obvious, wasn't it?

Then Kamenashi laughed and said he didn't make much sense. And Akanishi just squeezed one of his hands with reassurance because he couldn't really argue.

After Akanishi called for a nurse to check on Kamenashi, after they ate lunch together in the sterile, too-stark hospital room, and after small talk about current events and university life and yakuza gossip, Kamenashi said, softly, "But I don't think coming to Kobe was a mistake."

"I told you," Akanishi replied, thumb smoothing the skin on Kamenashi's palm. "I told you that you'd do well here," he said.

Because even though Kamenashi missed Akanishi, even though he'd needed him, he'd tried to move on, and while it was difficult to not think about Akanishi, he sort of succeeded, maybe. He learned to get around without him, at least, and so he was transitioning—taking gradual steps toward independence, and he was learning about himself, too, and—

Akanishi cut him off and said, "I think it's good for you. Being in Kobe alone." And they both knew what that meant, and Akanishi reminded Kamenashi that exams were that week and he'd be leaving that night, at the latest, the next morning. And Kamenashi told him not to worry about him or anything, and that maybe, in the future, when their paths crossed again, they could pick up where they left off.

Because Kamenashi didn't want to give up Kobe and Akanishi didn't want to give up Tokyo (and it was _good_ for them, a learning experience). And maybe, the best thing to do for one's most important thing was to let it go free.

Then Kamenashi saw Akanishi in front of his apartment complex. He wasn't at all startled because Domoto said he would be there, but he was anxious—like a schoolboy going on his first date.

Then the elevator. And—

Akanishi closes the front door behind Kamenashi. "Two years is a long time," he agrees, softly, and presses Kamenashi against the boxes that line the wall. He kisses him hard, his hands on either side of Kamenashi's face, and some of the boxes topple to the ground, but it doesn't matter, not at all, not really.

Kamenashi pulls away, chest heaving a little and skin tinging pink. He looks dubiously at the boxes that now litter the floor.

"Sorry," Akanishi says, leans in again so that Kamenashi can feel his warm breaths. "Sorry if anything broke," he says.

"Yeah," Kamenashi replies, dazed because of Akanishi's eyes on his. "Whatever. Maybe. It doesn't matter." He licks his lips.

Akanishi laughs and kisses him again, soft mouth and soft tongue, and Kamenashi thinks of all the men and women he kissed in Kobe and how none of them kiss quite like this.

"I thought about you," Kamenashi says, when they pull away again. Akanishi grabs his hand and leads him down the hallway toward a large living room. "In Kobe," he clarifies. "A lot." The apartment is huge. "I wanted you a lot, too," he says.

"I wanted you a lot, too," Akanishi echoes, and they stand in the living room. An entire wall is made of glass panels that span from the floor to the ceiling. One of them opens up to a balcony. They see skyscrapers, and in the distance, Tokyo Bay. The sun is setting and they're bathed in orange and purple light.

Kamenashi moves toward the glass, rests his forehead and palms against the surface. He shuts his eyes.

Akanishi comes behind him, rests his chin on Kamenashi's shoulder. "Pretty, right?" He asks, and Kamenashi turns toward him, and Akanishi kisses him again, again, again, turns him so that his shoulder blades press against the glass.

Kamenashi looks into Akanishi's eyes, at Akanishi's face. "Pretty," he says. "Beautiful," he continues. He's noticed it before, Akanishi and his features, but he's never _noticed_ it, that Akanishi is beautiful in the way that takes his breath away.

\---

Their suit jackets are gone. Their ties are unknotted and their shirts are unbuttoned. Akanishi pulls Kamenashi inside the bedroom, toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he topples backwards, the other on top of him.

Kamenashi straddles his thighs, presses hands against his chest and rolls their hips together. Akanishi fists his hands in Kamenashi's hair, drags him down for a kiss.

And their teeth clink together and Kamenashi bites down on Akanishi's lips. Akanishi's hiss turns into a gasping, breathless moan when Kamenashi's hand slips beneath the waistband of his pants and wraps around his cock. Akanishi presses up, thrusts into the other's grip and throws his head back before Kamenashi's mouth finds the hot, pulsing point on his neck, sucks at the skin as his hand strokes Akanishi slow. 

Akanishi pulls Kamenashi's free hand toward his face, brushes the fingers against his lips before pulling one, two into his mouth. Kamenashi moans into his neck, exhales heavily and picks his head up to look at Akanishi with half-lidded eyes and half-parted lips. Akanishi watches him back, wraps his tongue around his fingers and sucks hard.

"Akanishi," Kamenashi says, shakily, and swallows thickly, pulls his hand out of Akanishi's pants and begins to unbuckle his own belt and unzip his own pants. He pulls his hand away from Akanishi's mouth to stand and let his pants fall past his slim hips, and he pulls his shirt off his shoulders.

The other sits up, watches Kamenashi undress carelessly, hurriedly, and before Akanishi knows it, Kamenashi's pulled him to his feet and is undressing him too.

It's hot skin on hot skin, Akanishi pressing a thigh between Kamenashi's legs and Kamenashi thrusting against him, arms looped around Akanishi's neck as he presses their lips together. Akanishi pushes Kamenashi back down onto the mattress, lies on top of him and presses their foreheads together.

"Kazuya," Akanishi says, and he smiles, chest heaving.

"Akanishi," Kamenashi replies. " _Jin_ ," he says, breathlessly, against Akanishi's lips. And a shudder ripples through his body as Akanishi moves a hand between their bodies, down to stroke his cock, as Akanishi's lips move from his mouth to his jaw to his collarbone, hot and wet kisses and tiny bites.

His gasps are stifled when Akanishi presses two fingers against his lips, and Kamenashi takes them into his mouth, _knows_ what this entails and isn't going to fight it, because Akanishi has his lips on his skin and his hand on his cock.

And he's there, solid, alive.

"I'm going to do it, okay?" Akanishi says, soft and muffled against Kamenashi's slick skin. "All right?" he asks, and pulls his fingers out of Kamenashi's mouth, slowly, and lets go of Kamenashi's cock and sits back on his heels.

Kamenashi looks at him with hazy eyes, drunk with sex, lips wet and hair sticking to his face. "Please," he says, and reaches for Akanishi's hand, pulls it so that the palm splays against the inside of one of his thighs. "Please," he repeats. And Akanishi revels in the noise Kamenashi makes, the wanton expression on Kamenashi's face as he presses the first finger inside.

" _Kazuya_ ," Akanishi hisses, when he finally pushes himself in, hands pressing against the mattress for support. And Kamenashi throws his head back, digs his fingernails into Akanishi's shoulder blades and wraps his legs around Akanishi's waist to pull him closer.

"Are you okay?" Akanishi whispers, breathlessly, and Kamenashi's response is to thrust up against him, to crush their mouths together and bite at Akanishi's bottom lip, press his tongue into Akanishi's mouth and moan low and deep.

"It's good," Kamenashi replies, when he pulls back, Akanishi teeth catching a little on his bottom lip. "Perfect," he says, and arches his back.

And Akanishi sets the pace. Languid thrusts that cause Kamenashi to gasp quietly. Akanishi moves slow and patient and tries to ignore Kamenashi's pleas.

"Slowly," Akanishi says, presses their foreheads together again, their mouths sharing breaths, their eyes exchanging piercing looks.

"Please," Kamenashi says, begs. "Please, Jin." And he tries to thrust back against Akanishi's cock. " _Jin_ ," he says, a low whine, his fingers moving to curl themselves in Akanishi's dark hair.

Akanishi's resolve begins to break with Kamenashi's pleas, with Kamenashi's gasping moans.

"Fuck," Kamenashi says, and bites down hard on the other's lips, enough to make him hiss and pull back and taste blood. "Faster," he drags out the syllables, and cries out when Akanishi complies, suddenly, thrusts fast, sharp and cuts off his breath. "That's good," he says, unsteadily, breath shaky. "Just like that," he says. "Perfect," he hisses. "You're perfect," he says, voice softer.

Kamenashi's body is tight around Akanishi, and he captures Kamenashi's lips as they near the edge, thrusts harder, faster, his breaths coming heavier and closer together. Every movement sends electricity through their bodies, and Akanishi finds _that spot_ , knows because Kamenashi cries out louder, bites down on Akanishi's lips again and begins to tremble.

"Jin," Kamenashi says, "Jin." He gasps heavy, hard, Akanishi finds that spot again, again, and Kamenashi's muscles clench, fingers pulling the roots of Akanishi’s hair as he comes with a shuddering moan and an arching back.

Akanishi follows soon after, with a few more sharp thrusts and a soft moan. Kamenashi's pressing butterfly kisses to the corner of his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, and Akanishi pulls out, slowly, lies heavily beside the other.

Kamenashi rests his head in the crook of his neck and it feels _right_. And they're hot, slick with sweat, but Akanishi leans down to kiss Kamenashi, again, again, again, soft brushes of the lips, hurried pecks and soft whispers of stupid love nothings in between.

"Jin," Kamenashi says, voice muffled against his skin, hands roaming over Akanishi's muscles. "I—" He looks up at Akanishi who looks down at him, and his voice fails.

He uses a finger to trace what he wants to say on Akanishi's stomach, instead.

\---

Kamenashi is supposed to live alone in that apartment, but most of his time ends up being spent in Akanishi's cozy place in Shinjuku.

"Tadaima," Kamenashi calls, pulls off polished black shoes. He's still skinny and lithe, still has that long face and those high-arching eyebrows. He'd be unassuming if not for his piercing eyes and confident gait and expensive yakuza suit.

"Okaeri," Akanishi replies from somewhere. Maybe the kitchen where he eats Chinese leftovers or the living room where he researches clients. "Where'd you go?"

"Takizawa. Meeting. Job tonight."

"You know," Akanishi calls, "I made dinner reservations for tonight." He pads out to meet Kamenashi at the front door. He's still dark, a little broader than before, stronger-looking. His face is still pretty and he probably still looks like his mom. "Cancel?"

"Tomorrow," Kamenashi promises. "Did you make lunch?"

"Sure," Akanishi says, "if leftover pizza counts."


End file.
